Stepwise
by Logos Minus Pity
Summary: Fifteen years of marriage…fifteen years of silent struggles…fifteen years of quiet love. Fifteen years of coming to terms. A series of vignettes centering around Daemon and Surreal, taking place mainly during the novella "The High Lord's Daughter", from the book "Twilight's Dawn".


Legal Disclaimer: I, sadly, own no part of the Black Jewels universe or characters. All rights and restrictions are under Anne Bishop and the original publisher.

_In deviating from the usual approach, the bulk of my author's notes can be found at the end of the story, if you so desire to read them._

_Summary:_

_Fifteen years of marriage…fifteen years of silent struggles…fifteen years of quiet love. Fifteen years of coming to terms. A series of vignettes centering around Daemon and Surreal, taking place during "The High Lord's Daughter", from "Twilight's Dawn"._

* * *

_**~ One ~**_

"You think _what_?!"

Surreal flinched, and Lucivar immediately leashed his temper. He wasn't angry at Surreal, and given how weepy pregnancy had already made her, even his misdirected tone might get him tears, and for that he'd likely get an overprotective father breathing down his neck.

_And Darkness knows I don't need the Sadist making an appearance because he thinks I've upset his newly pregnant wife._

But Hell's fire, he'd be glad to have the usual, bitchier Surreal back in about nine months time. If she was this bad with the mood swings not even a month in, they were all going to be in a rough year.

For the time being, though, he stowed those thoughts away, blunted his temper and forced his voice to be even, speaking in controlled tones and volumes.

"Surreal, take a moment to sit back and listen to yourself. You're worried that _you_ forced _Daemon_ into a marriage that he doesn't want?"

Her eyes darted down for a moment too long. "It's not the marriage part, it's the sex—"

No. _No_. He was _not_ about to have a conversation about his brother's sex life. But obviously some things needed to be said, for Surreal's sake at the very least.

"Witchling, you know Sadi almost as well as I do, and you knew who…_what_…he was in Terreille." He let loose a harshly clipped laugh. "Whatever doubts or misgivings you clearly have, remember that my brother was the one who asked to you to marry him, and remember that I don't think there's anyone who could force him into bed if he didn't want it."

He saw her shoulders tense, then relax, and the stress lines started to smooth from around her eyes. Sensing that she was feeling better, he let loose a lazy, arrogant grin. "Besides, try to give yourself some credit, witchling. All those years of practice at the Red Moon Houses paid off after all."

She snarled a creative and angry curse at him, to which he smiled further and hugged her before she could protest. "That's my girl."

Lucivar knew that anything he said would not ultimately be able to convince Surreal of one thing or another. But she had spent more time by Daemon's side in the past few decades that what he had, and he was certain—more certain, he thought, than what either Surreal or Daemon were at the moment—of how much the two loved each other in their own separate ways. He couldn't speak for exactly where either of their hearts wandered right now, but he had faith that they would both make it through this, that Surreal could help heal Daemon's heart, and that Daemon would take care of Surreal's. He rubbed little circles into his new sister-in-law's back as she continued to let him hold her.

_Ah, witchling…_

He had to have faith in them both. Otherwise, he wouldn't know what else to do.

_**~ Two ~**_

Surreal screamed, and it shook Daemon to the very core. Never mind his earlier complaints on her bitching, he would take that in a heartbeat over the raw pain that prevented his wife from now even forming a curse to snarl at him.

"Surreal!"

Her eyes were wildly glazed and unseeing, and he wasn't even sure that she had heard him. He desperately, desperately wished he could do something, anything, to ease her pain. Logic and reason to the wind, ever fiber in his Warlord Prince body was yelling at him to do _something_ to make the agony that Surreal was in stop.

Another scream ripped from her throat as the Healer urged her to push and Daemon felt the gorge suddenly rise in _his_ throat.

"Steady, old son. Stay steady for her." A strong hand clasped his arm as his brother held him in place by Surreal's side, grounded him and kept him from taking an instinctive step backward. He looked at Lucivar, and saw that even a man who had gone through two pregnancies with his wife was pale, too, which he supposed was some measure of comfort.

"Is…" He had to swallow a moment to regain his wobbly voice. "Is it always this bad, prick?"

The shaky laugh from Lucivar was not as comforting as he had hoped. "Bastard, it's never fun for anyone involved. Although…"

Daemon felt his blood run cold with apprehension. If even Lucivar was concerned with how Surreal was enduring…

"She's a dark-jeweled witch," said Marian wearily, interrupting before his thoughts could being to snowball. There was sweat on the woman's brow from the hours of relentless work in the birthing room. "Speaking from experience, the first childbirth is always long and hard, and for a witch who wears the Gray…"

She trailed off grimly, and then resumed her work.

"Push, Surreal! Come on, sweetheart, push!"

His wife let loose a sound that was halfway between a scream and an animalistic screech, and this time both Daemon and Lucivar took an automatic half step back before catching themselves.

Another shaky laugh from Lucivar as he wiped the newly formed sweat from his brow; Daemon resisted doing the same. "Good thing we made sure to grab all of her blades before this, huh?"

Daemon suppressed a shudder. He didn't even want to contemplate what Surreal might do if a sharp weapon was in reaching distance right now.

_A "good thing" is right._

_**~ Three ~**_

Though she had been surprisingly shy about feeding Jaenelle in front of Daemon at first, Surreal had gotten over that initial hesitance with more gentle persuasion, which is how Daemon found himself standing in the study while Surreal sat on the couch, cooing gently to their daughter as she took her meal.

"Greedy little piglet," Surreal teased to their daughter, her eyes rich with warmth.

Not for the first time since his little Jaenelle had come into the world, he wondered at the small miracle that his wife held her arms, and not for the first time, he also wondered at just how naturally Surreal had stepped into the role of mothering their newborn child. He had always dreamed of having a child of his own, so when Surreal had walked into SaDiablo Hall less then a week after they had first slept together and dropped that bombshell on his head, he had jumped on the opportunity, even though he had yet to sort out his feelings on his long time second-in-command.

A child, _his_ child, and being carried by Surreal of all people.

There had been no hesitation on his part at the time. He would have done anything for his unborn offspring. Standing here now, he felt as though he had been waiting for Jaenelle's birth for quite a bit longer than ten months.

But even though Surreal had married him, even though she carried his child and then painfully birthed her, Daemon had been nervous as her third trimester closed about how Surreal would act once the child was out of her womb. Would she still want Daemon to raise the child with her? Would she still even want to be a mother to that child? Even after the birth, the thoughts still haunted him.

He realized, though, that he wasn't being fair to Surreal. He, at least, had never thought about whether or not Surreal wanted children before because she had never mentioned it, at least not to him.

But he understood now that not saying didn't mean not wanting.

And, Hell's fire, why would she have said anything to him to begin with if she hadn't had a steady lover in decades? If he hadn't been so busy worrying for the past ten months, he would have thought more with his head than with his heart, and he would have remembered just who he was dealing with.

Surreal had always been fiercely protective of children, more so than nearly any witch he had known. Given her long history with children, and given her personal history as the daughter of a broken and raped Queen, her strong feelings made sense. And what with the way that Surreal had always so easily played with Daemonar or Titian, her having a child suddenly made a great deal more sense in his mind.

No, he hadn't been fair to Surreal in not thinking about that up until now.

There had never been any need for him to worry about his—their—child while in her arms. The woman before him had already gone through the extended hell of carrying Jaenelle those nine months and giving birth to her. And Hell, much as he was loath to admit it, Surreal's brief attempt to attack both him and the Healer had revealed just how intrinsic the need to protect her baby was tied in to her nature—though it had taken him a while to come to terms with that.

Jaenelle had finished her meal, so Surreal graciously surrendered their child to Daemon, and he burped her while Surreal buttoned her shirt back into place.

"Did she burp yet?"

The question was voiced with the exact same degree of concern that Daemon would have used, had their current positions been reversed. It was almost comical—here they were, two dark-jeweled Blood both with a long history of violence and killing, and their greatest worry at the moment was whether the little bundle on his shoulder had burped from her dinner yet.

There was no doubt in his mind now. His daughter could not have asked for a better mother.

_**~ Four ~**_

Surreal's eyes shot open, and she heard Daemon groan into the pillow next to her. Darkness help them, but Jaenelle's teething was sure to be the end of them all. Before her husband could stir enough to rise, she forced herself out of bed—a bed, she was certain, that she had just barely managed to fall asleep in minutes before—and grabbed her crying daughter from the crib and took her into the next room so that at least one of them could be left in nocturnal peace.

Shortly after closing the door, she felt Daemon on the Gray.

*Surreal?*

Even over thread, he sounded as tired as what she felt. *It's okay, Sadi. I've got her right now. Just teething again.*

She assumed after there was no response that Daemon had gone back to sleep. He'd taken their daughter for the majority of last night while she cried and moaned and desperately chewed as her baby teeth grew in. So tonight, even though she was tired, from taking care of Jaenelle for most of the day, Surreal was going to try to sooth her unhappy daughter until she was able to sleep again instead of cry.

A sigh escaped her lips as she thought of the long night ahead of her. Jaenelle grabbed one of her fingers and immediately shoved it in her mouth, gumming the digit. Given the opportunity, Surreal ran the tip of her finger lightly over the gums, feeling the poke of ivory bumps.

"I know, darling girl, I know it hurts."

Surreal shook her head and sat down on comfy couch. At this rate, she would be spending more nights here than in her own bed. Not for the first time, she was completely baffled as to how her own mother had managed to take care of her as a newborn and while on the run from Kartane. It bewildered her, and made her all the more deeply appreciative for what Titian had sacrificed on her behalf.

What was a simple night's sleep in comparison?

At some indeterminate amount of time later, the connecting door opened again. Daemon entered wearing his robe, and stopped short as soon he got one good look at Surreal's face.

Shit. If she looked worse than him, and she had a sneaking suspicion that she did, the bags under her eyes must appear closer to bruises than sleep marks. Then he recalled himself and stepped forward, taking Jaenelle from her.

"Lady Jaenelle," said Daemon gravely, inclining his head. "I do believe that you are straining both mine and your mother's sleep limitations."

As if to prove the point, she struggled and cried in his arms, showing that she was no where near ready for sleep. Surreal let out a loose chuckle, recognizing that Daemon was trying to lighten her mood a bit.

For Daemon, recognizing that the chuckle meant he did not have to worry about his wife snarling at him, he asked more questions. "How has she been? Normally you can get her to bed by now."

Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall before training themselves back on Daemon. She was _not_ going to think about the numbers she had seen, about just how long she had been awake.

"I've tried everything. Chews, toys, rocking, feeding. She's having none of it tonight."

He jostled her slightly. "Being difficult tonight, are we?"

She gurgled at that, which was a vast improvement over crying, in Surreal's opinion.

"What do you want, then, witch-child?" He asked aloud.

"Sing to her, Sadi," suggested Surreal suddenly. "She likes your singing, I think."

A pause, and then an admission.

"I like your singing, too."

It was too dim to clearly see his face, but after a moment Daemon began to walk around the room, and a tune began to build as a hum in his throat. Then he started singing, a low and beautiful song in the Old Tongue.

Surreal closed her eyes and listened to the words that she could not understand. She might not know what was being said, but she could still appreciate the beauty in the song. On that note, maybe she should try to learn the Old Tongue sometime. She'd heard it was damnably hard, but if she had Sadi as an instructor…

The next thing she knew, she was being moved. She forced her eyes open, realized that Daemon was carrying her.

"Shit." It came out more as a mangled groan than a word. "I'm sorry, it's my turn to…"

A soft laugh rumbled through the chest that she was snuggled up against. "You're exhausted, Surreal. Go back to sleep."

"But…"

Daemon laid her down on their bed. "Jaenelle's sleeping now, and I'll take care of her again if she wakes before dawn. Go to sleep, Surreal."

She felt his lips press against hers, and felt her eyes close before he was even fully in bed next to her. By the time his arms wrapped protectively around her, she was already fast asleep.

_**~ Five ~**_

Surreal hooked her hair over an ear and then crossed her arms and drummed her fingers across her bicep. She refused to give in to the urge to pace.

She was nervous, and would readily admit as much to herself.

Today, in only a scant few hours, was Jaenelle Saetien SaDiablo's Birthright ceremony. It was the moment that Daemon had been dreading for the past fifteen years, and so by default, Surreal had been dreading it, too, though not for the same reasons.

For all throughout the past fifteen years—in fact, since she had first walked into his study to tell him that she was pregnant—she had always assured him that she would name him as the father, that she would never deny him paternity. Nonetheless, he still worried, and he had still grown anxious and withdrawn as this day fast approached. While Surreal knew that another woman might find offense here, she didn't have it in her heart to begrudge Sadi for his inability to fully trust her in this. Given his own terrible history, how could she blame him?

And though she knew she would stand forward and affirm his paternity, she still dreaded this day, too, in her own way.

The past fifteen years had been good, better than what she had expected being married to the Prince of Dhemlan and High Lord of Hell, and raising a child with him.

Oh, they had there arguments here and there, and he could get as stubbornly overprotective as she could get bitchy, but she would lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed it, the rough patches and all.

The sex was always fantastic, but it was more than that. Even though he had never promised love, there was a tenderness to Daemon that had only seemed to grow as the years progressed. There was a deep and genuine affection when he told her that she was beautiful or lovely, or when he got her an unexpected gift or explained offhand to their daughter just how talented her mother was.

And she remembered clearly Tersa's words to her in the garden earlier in the year. Though it seemed easy to believe otherwise, Daemon's heart _was_ healing—because of Jaenelle Saetien…and because of her.

But even given all that, Surreal felt afraid. She was afraid of what would happen after the ceremony, of what might change. She twisted her wedding band around her ring finger anxiously.

When Jaenelle was officially recognized as Daemon's daughter, would he still need her, Surreal, there?

If he didn't love her after all this time, would he still want her there?

The mere thought of being shut out, from both Daemon and Jaenelle's lives, twisted like a knife in her chest.

She calmed her breathing, tried to relax. This was a fear. It was the same fear that plagued Daemon as he waited for her to acknowledge paternity. It was the same fear that had struck them both on the day that Jaenelle Saetien had first come into this world. It was the fear of being shut out from those who they loved the most.

But fear was not going to dictate what she would do. She was still going to walk by her daughter's side, and was going to name Daemon Sadi as the father of her child. Nothing would change that. She would never betray Daemon's trust in her. By the same token, she knew that, despite her fear, she needed to have faith, and believe in Daemon the same way she had since she first accepted his offer of marriage. She had to have trust.

_**~ Six ~**_

He stood by the edge of the lawn, surreptitiously studying his daughter, the small herd of Sceltie puppies, and the seemingly stern lecture they were all currently receiving from his wife.

A few choice bits of the conversation drifted to him on the wind.

"…in Mrs. Beale's herb garden anymore…"

Ah. So that explained the angry screaming from his cook earlier, as well as the attentive and remorseful look on Jaenelle and the puppies' faces. Could Sceltie's even look both those things as the same time?

For all the Surreal looked serious, he could tell that she was trying her hardest to keep from grinning or laughing. He would have to do something special for her later, for taking care of Mrs. Beale while he'd been in the middle of dealing with business as the High Lord. Mrs. Beale was, after all, a rather formidable woman, especially when it came to her herb garden.

Even once the matter had been settled and Jaenelle flounced away with her small pack of puppies in tow, Daemon's eyes remained trained on his wife.

She was beautiful, his second wife, with her gold-green eyes and pointed ears. Beautiful and deadly, and far too deserving of a better man than him. For nearly a century, she had been one of his closest confidants, a trusted friend and family member, and his second-in-command. They had seen the best and the worst that they each had to offer, and still stood by each other. And yet for the past fifteen years since their marriage, while dutiful, he had not been the husband she deserved.

He'd torn himself between the love that he'd had for Jaenelle Angelline—the love that he would always have—and the love that he had now with Surreal. He'd torn himself with guilt and fear because the two loves were different, and because he knew that they would always be different. Jaenelle would always be the first, true love of his life. When she had passed, he hadn't wanted to move on, hadn't wanted to believe that he could fall in love again with someone who wasn't Jaenelle. So when he had first recognized that he felt _something_ more for Surreal that went beyond sex, he had tried to push it aside, had thought that there would be time enough for him to sort out what exactly was going on. But then she had come to him pregnant with his child, and he had acted immediately, without even thinking. He would do anything for his unborn child, and he would also do anything for Surreal. Marriage made the most sense. In marriage he could offer them the most, protect them to the best of his ability, and provide whatever physical comforts and necessities they could want for.

For Surreal, he had known that included sex.

And he had known at the time, without even thinking twice, that he could provide that for her. He knew that he could give her physical pleasure, and that he could be physically pleased just as much while with her. That had never even concerned him.

What had hurt him so badly then, and for the past fifteen years, was the questionable battle of emotional infidelity.

Daemon was not a man who normally did things in halves, but he could not bring himself to give Surreal the full love that she had deserved, the love that she had still given him without question for those fifteen years, even while knowing that it was not fully returned.

He had struggled and fought with himself that entire time, caught between his first love for Jaenelle Angelline and the new, different love that he knew he had also found in Surreal.

It had taken him fifteen long years to wrestle with his conflicting emotions while Surreal, ever herself, had to have been suffering silently alongside him, patiently loyal and loving as always, holding no grudge against him or against his first wife, the woman who had healed them all and united them together.

And yet even with the time given to him, he had nearly been a lost cause. It had been Jaenelle who had set him straight again. It had been Witch who ultimately freed him from the chains that had burdened him.

"_Stubborn, snarly male. Do you need my permission to love the woman who is now your wife, to acknowledge what you feel for her?"_

"_I don't love Surreal the way I loved you. I'll never love anyone the way I loved you."_

"_I know, but you do love her Daemon."_

"_Yes, I do."_

_Her voice softened. "Then it's time you told her."_

And those chains, those silly chains that he had placed over himself were gone in an instant. In that instant she had shown him that his heart, just like his love, had always been his to freely give, even when he had thought otherwise, and had weighed himself down with the perceived confusion and guilt.

For the first time in a great many years, his heart felt light and unburdened. It still hurt to think of Jaenelle, and how she was gone, and he knew it probably always would, but looking at Surreal, looking at the friend, woman, and lover who had stood by him for so many years, he felt his heart swell, no longer weighed down or trapped in a seemingly endless loop without hope. She was not Jaenelle, but he didn't need her to be. He didn't want her to be. She was Surreal, and that was enough.

As if suddenly feeling the weight of his gaze on her, Surreal glanced over, blushing unexpectedly at whatever she saw reflected in his face. He made his way across the grass to her, grinning as he thought of exactly how he was going to make up to her tonight for dealing with the Scelties. Along his line of thinking, neither of them would be getting much sleep, though he was fairly certain she wouldn't be complaining about the reasons why.

Once he reached her, he removed his hands from his trouser pockets and pulled her against him, pressing her back against his chest as he wrapped his arms protectively around her. Then he spoke three simple words to her.

"I love you."

He felt her relax into him, felt his own body relax around hers even more. He could hold her forever like this and be content, breathing in the scent of her hair and her skin, and never wanting to let go.

"I know."

The words were spoken softly, if a bit tartly, and he was taken aback momentarily. Then he recovered. He should have known better than to let himself be surprised by her words. Without looking down, he had the sudden impression that Surreal was blushing again, but he chose to ignore it and instead kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her waist. After a moment, her arms wrapped on top of his, her hands overlapping with his as their matching wedding bands touched.

"I love you, too, Daemon."

Her words were whispered, but he still heard them as clearly as if they had been shouted to the world.

_I know_.

He smiled into her silken hair. In this moment, he couldn't imagine things being any other way.

_**~ Seven ~**_

He loved seeing her like this, so addled with pleasure—pleasure that _he_ had given her—that she could not even form words yet. Not even now, when her sheath had finished squeezing him tight and he had spent himself inside of her. Instead her mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds and she blinked hard, her golden-green eyes focusing on him. He decided on giving her a bit longer to recover herself, and placed a searing, open-mouthed kiss over her lips as he pulled out and rolled to the side of her, keeping one hand placed possessively over her low belly. From there he slowly began kissing her stomach, her chest, her neck, listening to her fluttering heartbeat finally begin to slow as the sweat of exertion dried on both of their skins.

One of her hands joined his atop her belly, intertwining fingers with his sweetly.

"Daemon?"

This close to her neck, her voice vibrated up through his lips.

"Mmm?" He let her know that she had his attention, though he continued with his current ministrations.

"Do you…that is…" Now she had peaked his full attention. Surreal was never one to dance around words. He stopped kissing her collarbone and poked his head up high enough to meet her bright eyes. "Do you…want to have another child?"

That single question dropped whatever thoughts he had been entertaining up until then off of a proverbial mental cliff.

Another child?

Daemon had always wanted children, at least since leaving Little Terreille. It was almost funny; you would have thought that after all of the centuries of being at Dorothea's mercy that a child would be that last thing he wanted. But it was to the contrary. Ever since finding his real family, since both knowing and giving love, he had wanted his own children to raise and love and to sing to the Darkness as he had.

And he and Surreal already had that. They had their little Jaenelle.

Jaenelle Saetien was the light in both of their lives. She was their child, and more than that, she was their dreams made flesh, built from a web of dreams that began before either he or Surreal had even become aware of their wants and desires. That dream was now a young girl, a wild handful of curiosity and love that matched every bit of her namesake.

That dream—or that pregnancy—had also been completely unplanned.

For all that he and Surreal were happily married, he had not considered in the past decade or two to ask his wife about children. Plural: children.

At the unexpected question she now posed, though, he also couldn't help but immediately grimace at the first memory that surfaced from Surreal's pregnancy with Jaenelle, or more specifically, Jaenelle's birth: the healer, holding out a tiny girl, everyone's attention on the newborn, and then the mother, screaming inhumanly as she swiped with a talon decorated hand, recognizing nothing except the need to get her child back and to kill whoever was in the way.

Surreal had been only a few precarious inches from nearly ripping out his lungs. Of course, she hadn't even remotely been herself when that happened. The terms "feral", "insane", and "terrifying" flashed through Daemon's mind in cautionary remembrance.

Even with only half of the bloodline, Surreal was still very much a Dea al Mon witch.

Granted, he was the one who had gotten into bed with said Dea al Mon witch, and he was the one who had already had one child with her.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Surreal's temple, now more loving than sexual, and considered just what was being offered. Carrying Jaenelle to full term had been trying enough for him at the time, with Surreal's constant mood swings between bafflingly weepy and uncontrollably bitchy; and he wasn't the one who had his body and emotions changing left and right on him while being Craft-less for the better portion of a year. How Surreal had managed to get through the ten months of pregnancy as a dark-jeweled witch…granted, there had also been a great deal more emotional strain going on for both of them at the time. Still, she had never once considered anything but birthing and raising their child, even if she had been unplanned.

"Daemon?"

He realized that he had still not said anything, which was clearly beginning to worry his wife.

Well. They would just have to be doubly sure this time that they really had taken all of Surreal's demon-damned knives and other bladed instruments before they got back into the birthing room. That, and a full-body Black shield would probably not be amiss for him.

He let his lips slowly trail their way down to Surreal's ear before responding.

"Mmm. If we want to give Jaenelle a little brother or sister to boss around, then we'd best get started working on that, shouldn't we?" He breathed the words into her ear, speaking in a low purr to her, and feeling her body shiver appreciatively—he had long since learned how sensitive those ears were, and just what he could do with them.

Not waiting for a full response from his wife, he slowly and sensuously licked the curve of that delicately pointed ear, and then bit down lightly on the fine tip of it, just hard enough for her to feel the prick of his teeth. He felt more than heard the breath catch in her throat. At the same time, a second shiver ran through her and the scent of her arousal struck his nostrils even as he felt a parallel desire stir below his waist.

So he chuckled with pleased amusement when Surreal rounded on him with a heated snarl and sharp eyes, meeting his lips with hers and allowing their tongues to dance against each other. Then he pulled her on top of him.

It was time to get to work.

_~Fin_

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_While I know that there are plenty of people who did not enjoy the last novella, _The High Lord's Daughter, _I did enjoy it very much, in large part because I think it tackled some very non-Hollywood-canon ideas and issues dealing with love and relationships (instead of the standard, "your one true love!" approach). However, my chief complaint was that given the amount of back story and prior writing time dedicated to Jaenelle Angelline and Daemon, trying to fit Surreal and Daemon into a short novella just did not seem fair. I think that a fuller novel would have communicated more of the ethos and therefore connected with more readers…but sadly, I am not Anne Bishop (and this really isn't the place for literary breakdown discussion)._

_Anyway, the point that I am trying to get at is that I felt compelled after reading to try and fit in a few of those "blanks"—not a lot, and by no means a novel's worth, but I did want to fill a few of those things that spanned the fifteen years of Surreal and Daemon's marriage; just little vignettes that, for me, helped better flesh out their struggles as well as their love for each other. Aaaaand end my hopeless romanticism here. Hope you enjoyed._

_~Logos Minus Pity_


End file.
